Always Here
by DustyClouds
Summary: In the pre-apocalypse, I was that tiny, timid girl that didn't really have anyone to look up to. Sure, I had friends, but in this world, it's the undead that took over. A little girl like me needs to grow up, mature. That's how the others died, they didn't change. But I can't. Sometimes I still wonder why I'm here.
1. Chapter 1: Blue Eyes

**My first fanfic. Won't screw this up. Hope somebody reads this.**

**Enjoy the story :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead. Belongs to its original and rightful owner.**

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><p>How I hate my life right now. Why, you may ask?<p>

It's so simple to start, but not easy to end.

The horrifying screams of people being eaten alive by those, those "monsters" is just such a sickening sight. That happened to my parents and older brother a week ago back in Macon. Our camp had gotten invaded by those freaks, craving for human flesh and bone to feed on. It's pretty much all they ever did. Just eat eternally. I was lucky to escape the eaters, but my remaining family members (which are now dead) died in such a horrible way. Having only a backpack with some canned goods inside and a flashlight, I was never going to survive the next night. No weapons at all, and I'm not dead yet. Now, here I was, roaming the quiet streets of Atlanta. There were no dead people here. At least that's what I heard anyways. More shops means more food, right?

Might as well take the chance while I have it.

I went inside a coffee shop - well, what used to be a coffee shop - and took off my backpack, setting it on a dusty table. There were a couple of corpses sprawled out on the floor, along with scattered debris. Dried blood stained the once beautiful creamy walls, no more scents of warm coffee or hot chocolate. I would go to this same coffee shop in the winter season with my best friend, Abby, during the pre-apocalypse. Haven't seen her in over a month since this disaster started. There would be no more of her sleepovers, no more of her pranks on our teachers at school, no more of her voice. . .

. . .no more of her face.

Quickly I searched every inch of the coffee shop, turning over tables and chairs to see what I can find. I found a twenty dollar bill, but money isn't useful anymore like it used to be. Hell, it was a shame my hands got dirty because of them rummaging through the garbage can, but you never know what you might find.

I found nothing useful in that garbage can.

After searching the entire coffee shop, I grabbed my backpack and put it on, heading out into the apocalyptic world. Dozens of cars had crowded the streets, one piled on another, the fetid stench of corpses filling my nose. I saw my dad's red Cadillac, the memories of me riding in it during the good days before the apocalypse began, resulting in the shatter of heartbreak. He was only sixty-three, which I still consider a young age. Even though he was old, he was wise. Before my father faced his death, he told me what to do if I found a group.

_"Find a group. Gain their trust, and they might give you something in return. Along the way, protect the weakest ones with the strongest members of your group. Just remember, there is always that one person who will care about you most."_

Who gives a shit about a twelve year old girl like me?

No one.

I collapsed onto the concrete ground, my purple wool fedora falling off my head. It was the hat I would wear to school, the hat I would wear to special events, such as parties. In fact, it was my favorite hat above all the others I've worn.

My limbs ached because of the long trek I took from Macon to Atlanta. It would've been faster by vehicle, but since I don't know how to fucking drive yet, I went on foot. Jesus Christ, it was painful like hell itself. I only rested a few times, and kept going like my brother had told me to. It has only been a week since-

No.

I was done talking about death.

An abrupt gunshot sounded throughout the city of Atlanta, stinging my eardrums. I grabbed my fedora and forced myself to get up, despite the fact that I was famished and tired. In the middle of the street there was a man shooting at the eaters with his gun. He leaped onto a tank that was there for some unimportant reason, still shooting at the eaters. By the look of it, he was probably a former police officer - I could tell by the uniform he wore. Some of the eaters were consuming a dead horse, most of them were scrabbling onto the tank, and one was heading toward me. I let out a terrified shriek when it reached for my arm, only to be gunned down by the man on the tank. He ran over to me, scooping me up in his arms. He ran to the tank entrance and set me inside, closing it before any of those monsters could get inside. I tipped my fedora down so he couldn't see my brown eyes, which are full of fear from those things that were trying to eat us. From the sickenly groans up above, they sure are desperate.

"You okay, kid?" The man rests a hand on my shoulder. I stare into his comforting, ocean blue eyes that were shouting that I'll be okay. "My name's Rick Grimes. And yours?"

"J-Jenina M-Mares. . ." I stammered.

"How old are you, Jenina?"

"Twelve." Like a twelve year old would be living.

"Do you have a group?"

"No."

I coughed out droplets of blood on the tank floor. Immediately Rick reacted to this, rubbing my shoulder with his hand while saying soothing words. My vision was dancing to its blurry state, throat eager to have water. Why is the world around me turning black. .?

The last thing I saw were Rick's pleading blue eyes, eager to keep me alive.

And my eyes fluttered shut.

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><p><strong>Like it? Don't like it? Please leave a review. :)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: Lucky One

Chapter 2: Lucky One

**Without further ado, here is chapter two! :)**

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><p>I could hear a soft, soothing voice in my ears as I awakened, my eyes adjusting to the face looking down at me with concern. I expected to see the brown eyes of my mother, but these pair of eyes were blue. Deep, sky blue eyes expressing both trepidation and warmth. They were being honest with me. But before I could say anything, the radio that's in the corner suddenly turns on.<p>

_"Hey you, dumbass. Yeah, you in the tank. Cozy in there?" _

Rick's gaze turns to the radio lying in the corner. He looks back at me, then to the radio again. An eerie silence passes between us in the tank. There was nothing for me to say to Rick at all, that I was too weak to get up, or if I've been through a lot ever since this disaster began. Losing my family to those zombies-

No.

Never seeing Abby in over a-

No.

_"Hey, you alive in there?"_

Rick raced across the tank floor, knocking his head on the low ceiling as he went for the little piece you speak into. "Hello, hello?"

_"Oh, there you are. You had me wondering."_

The sound of the radio voice fills my heart with hope. Hope that there is actually a survivor out there. One survivor must mean a group of survivors, and more survivors means a better chance of surviving. I turn my attention to Rick, who is still talking with the radio voice.

"Where are you, outside? Can you see me right now?" Rick inquired.

_"Yeah, I can see you. You're surrounded by walkers. That's the bad news,"_ the radio voice says.

I scoot back against the tank wall, clutching onto my backpack for support. Here I am, in a tank with a man I barely even know, who goes by the name Rick Grimes. I look over to my right to see a decaying corpse that I had not noticed earlier, probably because I was so frightened. There is a moment's hesitation of silence, and Rick starts to speak again.

"Any good news?" He taps his fingernails on the tank floor. I already know what the answer is going to be.

_"No."_

"Listen, whoever you are, I don't mind telling you, I'm a little concerned in here." Of course you are concerned Rick. There is a herd of walkers out there wanting to eat us, doubling the problem since you've got a little girl. A girl that doesn't know how to fend for herself, a girl who is scared of the world. . .

. . .a girl with no friends to comfort her.

_"Oh man, you should see from here. You'd be having a major freak out."_

"Got any advice for me?"

_"Yeah. I'd say make a run for it."_

"That's it. Make a run for it?"

Zipping my backpack open, I search through the already known contents to distract myself from the conversation. The cans of food are still there from last week, save for the flashlight that I kept. Nothing else, simply just that. They would probably be useful for later; as of present time, I had no weapons to protect myself against the walkers. I should've been dead now, dead like all of my loved ones. There was Abby, my one and only friend who has to be alive out there somewhere. She has to be.

Feeling slightly bored, I listen to the radio voice again.

_"It's not as dumb as it sounds. You got eyes on the outside here. There's one geek still up on the tank, but the others have climbed down and joined the 'feeding frenzy' when the horse went down. You with me so far?"_

"So far."

_"Okay, the street on the other side of the tank is less crowded. If you move now while they're distracted, you stand a chance. Got ammo?"_

Pushing back my bangs, I look up from my backpack to Rick. He is still crouched on the tank floor with the radio in his hand. "In that duffel bag I dropped out there. . . and guns, can I get to it?"

_"Forget the bag, it's not an option. What do you have on you?"_

"Hang on." Rick put down the radio and pulled out a gun from his waistband, checking to make sure there are enough rounds. I hug my backpack closer to myself.

"I don't have any weapons," I tell him in my softest voice. Besides, even if I did have a weapon, I wouldn't really know how to use it.

Rick's gaze meets mine again. We stare at each other for what seems like a long moment, and our eyes break apart. He scurries over to the corpse lying next to me, putting his hands in the dead soldier's pockets. The fetid stench was even more horrible to smell than your average garbage can. Obviously, the dead soldier had been here for a long time. Rick searched the soldier's corpse before he grabbed something. I identified the object as a bomb.

"Yeah. . ." Rick mutters under his breath before he shoves the bomb in his pants pocket. He crawls over to the radio, telling the person on the radio what he has. The voice gives him instructions on where we need to go, and where he currently is watching us.

"What's your name?" This is a very bad time for Rick to be asking questions. Does he even realize that we're stuck in a tank surrounded by walkers? I would like to know this man's name too, but that would have to wait.

_"Have you been listening? You're running out of time."_

The radio drops out of Rick's grasp. He moves around in the tank, grabbing a few more items. I put on my backpack, making sure I have everything. Rick turns to me, sky blue eyes meeting my dusty cloud ones. We seemed to 'know each other' in some sort of way. In a way that I wasn't able to explain.

"Remember, stay close to me." He gives me a soft expression. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Five minutes have passed and I can already trust this man.

Rick gets up and opens the latch to the tank door. A gunshot goes off, and he pulls me up. We jump off the tank and run down the sidewalk together, me holding onto Rick's hand while he shoots his gun at the walkers. I didn't exactly know why I was holding his hand, but it was somewhat comforting to have him here. The walkers were hungry as hell, because so many of them were following us from behind. I only keep my eyes on Rick the entire time, hearing their groans from all places possible. Turning a corner into an alley, a Korean man stood at a fence. At least, I think he's Korean.

"I'm not dead!" he shouts. Then I realize it, that he was the radio voice talking to Rick back in the tank. We start running down the alley as fast as we can, sweat trickling from my forehead. Rick fires his gun at a couple more walkers, but when he pulls the trigger again, there are no more bullets. The three of us climb a yellow ladder. When I get to the top, the man helps me up, also including Rick. I lean against the railing, looking down at the bunch of walkers below us.

"Nice moves there, Clint Eastwood," he comments, panting between breaths. "You're the new Sheriff? Come riding in to clean up the town?"

"Wasn't my intention," responds Rick.

"Yeah, whatever, ye haw." I narrow my eyes at his reply, but he doesn't notice the grim look on my face. "You're still a dumbass."

Instead of saying a rude comment, Rick holds out his hand. "Rick - thanks."

"Glenn - you're welcome." The two men shake hands and soon let go. "Who is the girl in the fedora?"

Rick pats me on the head. "This is Jenina. Found the girl by herself."

A smile streaks across Glenn's face. "She's a lucky one. In a world like this, you rarely see little girls anymore."

I had nothing to say to that.

Glenn looks up at the tall ladder that leads to the roof of a building, the safest place we should be right now. "On the bright side, it will be the fall that kills us."

For whoever was waiting for Glenn, I didn't like the feeling that rose inside my stomach.

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><p><strong>As usual, thank you for reading! :)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3: Other Survivors

**The chapters will get better as this story goes on, even though I'm following the tv show. Just stay with me on this one.**

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><p>At the top of the roof, Rick, Glenn, and I keep a steady pace as we walk. I clutch one of my backpack straps tightly, wondering how it wasn't damaged or lost throughout all the furor I came across. I faced walkers, escaped from cannibals, and tons of other chaos I could think of. Pretty much people.<p>

"You the one who barricaded the alley?" Rick is the one who asks Glenn another question.

"Somebody did." That meant someone else must have blocked the alley. So it wasn't Glenn. We hop over a small wall. "I guess when the city got overrun somebody thought they could go through it." We start jogging. "What about the girl? Where did she come from?"

"Lost my family back in Macon. Camp got overrun by walkers."

"Sorry about that. . ."

"You shouldn't be," I say to Glenn in a sour voice.

Rick casts me a look that is saying, "Don't be so bitter to him." I shouldn't be bitter, but I hate it when people feel sorry for me. This was a time for me to cry, but I didn't want to let the tears out just yet.

Glenn accompanies us to the trap door. When he opens it, he climbs down the ladder.

"I'm not sure if we should go down there or not," I say in a small voice. "It doesn't seem safe enough."

"You're going to be fine, Jenina. Just don't say anything."

I nod at his words and go down the ladder, Rick being the one to close the trap door behind me and Glenn. The three of us are sprinting in another building. We find ourselves in an alley for the second time already, except that there are four walkers that aren't even close to the herd. Glenn orders a command into his walkie-talkie, and two people in black armor come out, attacking the walkers with baseball bats. The scene reminded me of that Halloween night when Abby and I went out dressed as cops, the laugh that had been shared between us when we tackled Praneetha into the lake.

Those days are long gone by now.

We enter into another building, the two people in armor following us. I felt the tension slowly rise when a blonde woman shoves Rick against the wall. A gun was in her hand, pointed at his head. If I lost Rick now, my heart would shatter into a million pieces. The gun clicks once. Before anyone could say a word, I am the one to speak first.

"P-please! You can't kill Ricky!"

The blonde woman doesn't listen. "Son of a bitch!" she screeches. "We're dead because of this stupid asshole!"

"Andrea - just calm down," a dark haired man says. He is the one who was in the black armor earlier. "There's a little girl here."

"She called him 'Ricky.' Ricky. Just look at her!" Glenn exclaims.

My innocent (plus cute) look meets the six adults. A dark-skinned woman wipes the tears forming in her eyes. The blonde lady - who the dark haired man just called Andrea - gives me a soft stare. She lowers her gun, eyes softening even more with deep empathy.

"I-I'm sorry, kid. . . I didn't mean it." Andrea shook her head and muttered a few curse words under her breath."We're dead. All of us. Because of you." Rick seems unaffected by Andrea's words. There was a glow that seemed to shine between Rick and I, a glow that shined inside of him when I nicknamed Ricky. It seemed like 'our glow' would always be there. But it suddenly shut out when a dark-skinned man spoke.

"At least tell us your name." To my surprise, his voice is quiet and soft, like the one Praneetha would use whenever I was upset. Same for Abby and everyone else that I knew back in Macon. Voices that were to be heard and faces to be seen, only to be replaced by these other survivors that I barely even know.

"Jenina is just very timid, T-Dog." I'm glad that Glenn is correct on this fact. I am always timid, even in the worst of circumstances. Always spoke when spoken to. That's just who I am. Timid.

"Look," the man's voice catches my attention. He and Rick walk out of the room, everybody else following them. "We came to the city to scavenge supplies. Sneaking in and out, tiptoeing. Not shooting up the streets like a fool."

We enter a department store. Behind the doors is a whole herd of walkers, banging their fists on the clear glass. One of them has a rock in their hands, which cracked the glass even more. I cower my head in fear. The adults back up into the store, me hiding like a coward behind them.

"What the hell were you two doing out there?" asks Andrea.

"Trying to find the helicopter." For the second time, I am in a state of confusion. What is Rick talking about?

"Man, there's no damn helicopter!"

"It was just a hallucination," a dark-colored lady says. She was the one who was crying earlier. "Imagine the things that happened."

"I saw it." The former police officer turns to me. "Jenina, did you see the helicopter?"

"No," is the answer I give Rick.

The dark haired man speaks again. "Hey T-Dog, try to find a signal on your walkie-talkie. Can you contact the others?" He pulls out his walkie-talkie and holds it up to his face.

"Others? The refugee center?"

Oh Ricky, enough with the questions. . .

"Yeah, the refugee center," the woman repeats in a snappy tone. "They got biscuits in the oven waiting for us."

T-Dog exhales a heavy sigh. "Got no signal. Maybe the roof?"

I jump up when a gunshot sounds from up above. What perfect timing!

"Oh God, was that Dixon?" Never in my life have I heard the name 'Dixon' that Andrea just mentioned. Probably another survivor of their group, I suppose. Two more gunshots go off, and all of us run up the stairs to the roof. Once we get there, a man (either in his early or late forties) with short blond hair is shooting his rifle at the walkers on the street.

"Dixon are you crazy?" the black haired man yells. Still, I wish I knew his name.

A smirk spreads across Dixon's face. He turns around and walks over to us. "Hey! You ought t'be more polite to a man with a gun. I got some common sense."

"Man you're wastin' bullets we don't even got! There are already enough walkers to be taken care of!" T-Dog hollers at him.

"Hey, bad enough I got this taco bender up my ass all day and now I'm gonna take orders from you? I don't think so bro, that'll be the day. . ."

"That'll be the day?" T-Dog's voice starts to rise. "You got something you want to tell me?"

"T-Dog, it ain't worth it." I stare at the man. "Now Merle, just relax, okay? We got enough trouble." So his first name is Merle and his last name is Dixon. Got it.

"You wanna know the day?" I narrow my eyes at the way Merle is challenging T-Dog.

"Yeah."

"I'll tell you the day Mister Yo."

Several curse words are thrown at T-Dog by Merle. Next thing I know is that those two are fighting. Merle punches him in the face many times, then pushes him to the ground. Rick comes forward and tells Merle to stop. Instead he gets punched in the face too. A light bulb turns on in my head. I slip off my backpack and take out a can of tomato soup. I wasn't sure if I should do it or not, but now T-Dog has a gun pointed at his face by Merle Dixon.

I throw the can and it hits Merle in the back of his head.

"Fuck, who the hell threw that?" He turns around. "So a little girl thinks she can take on a Dixon? What a-"

Before Merle could finish his sentence, an arm wraps around his throat. It was just Rick, who is simply 'protecting me.' Successfully he manages to handcuff Merle to a pipe. 'The glow' suddenly returns again.

"You okay, tough girl?"

Rick just called me baby girl. No one has ever called me "tough girl."

I just run over to Rick and pull him into a hug, the tears starting to flood in my eyes and pour out onto his clothing. He took the depression away, he took the weakness away, he put back all of my little strength.

"You're going to be okay, Jen," I hear him whisper in my ear. "You're going to be okay. . ."

He's going to take care of me.

For only a few moments, I start to realize I'm growing on Rick Grimes.

"You the one who barricaded the alley?" Rick is the one who asks Glenn another question.

"Somebody did." That meant someone else must have blocked the alley. So it wasn't Glenn. We hop over a small wall. "I guess when the city got overrun somebody thought they could go through it." We start jogging. "What about the girl? Where did she come from?"

"Lost my family back in Macon. Camp got overrun by walkers."

"Sorry about that. . ."

"You shouldn't be," I say to Glenn in a sour voice.

Rick casts me a look that is saying, "Don't be so bitter to him." I shouldn't be bitter, but I hate it when people feel sorry for me. This was a time for me to cry, but I didn't want to let the tears out just yet.

Glenn accompanies us to the trap door. When he opens it, he climbs down the ladder.

"I'm not sure if we should go down there or not," I say in a small voice. "It doesn't seem safe enough."

"You're going to be fine, Jenina. Just don't say anything."

I nod at his words and go down the ladder, Rick being the one to close the trap door behind me and Glenn. The three of us are sprinting in another building. We find ourselves in an alley for the second time already, except that there are four walkers that aren't even close to the herd. Glenn orders a command into his walkie-talkie, and two people in black armor come out, attacking the walkers with baseball bats. The scene reminded me of that Halloween night when Abby and I went out dressed as cops, the laugh that had been shared between us when we tackled Praneetha into the lake.

Those days are long gone by now.

We enter into another building, the two people in armor following us. I felt the tension slowly rise when a blonde woman shoves Rick against the wall. A gun was in her hand, pointed at his head. If I lost Rick now, my heart would shatter into a million pieces. The gun clicks once. Before anyone could say a word, I am the one to speak first.

"P-please! You can't kill Ricky!"

The blonde woman doesn't listen. "Son of a bitch!" she screeches. "We're dead because of this stupid asshole!"

"Andrea - just calm down," a dark haired man says. He is the one who was in the black armor earlier. "There's a little girl here."

"She called him 'Ricky.' Ricky. Just look at her!" Glenn exclaims.

My innocent look meets the six adults. A dark-skinned woman wipes the tears forming in her eyes. The blonde lady - who the dark haired man just called Andrea - gives me a soft stare. She lowers her gun, eyes softening even more with deep empathy.

"I-I'm sorry, kid. . . I didn't mean it." Andrea shook her head and muttered a few curse words under her breath."We're dead. All of us. Because of you." Rick seems unaffected by Andrea's words. There was a glow that seemed to shine between Rick and I, a glow that shined inside of him when I nicknamed Ricky. It seemed like 'our glow' would always be there. But it suddenly shut out when a dark-skinned man spoke.

"At least tell us your name." To my surprise, his voice is quiet and soft, like the one Praneetha would use whenever I was upset. Same for Abby and everyone else that I knew back in Macon. Voices that were to be heard and faces to be seen, only to be replaced by these other survivors that I barely even know.

"Jenina is just very timid, T-Dog." I'm glad that Glenn is correct on this fact. I am always timid, even in the worst of circumstances. Always spoke when spoken to. That's just who I am. Timid.

"Look," the man's voice catches my attention. He and Rick walk out of the room, everybody else following them. "We came to the city to scavenge supplies. Sneaking in and out, tiptoeing. Not shooting up the streets like a fool."

We enter a department store. Behind the doors is a whole herd of walkers, banging their fists on the clear glass. One of them has a rock in their hands, which cracked the glass even more. I cower my head in fear. The adults back up into the store, me hiding like a coward behind them.

"What the hell were you two doing out there?" asks Andrea.

"Trying to find the helicopter." For the second time, I am in a state of confusion. What is Rick talking about?

"Man, there's no damn helicopter!"

"It was just a hallucination," a dark-colored lady says. She was the one who was crying earlier. "Imagine the things that happened."

"I saw it." The former police officer turns to me. "Jenina, did you see the helicopter?"

"No," is the answer I give Rick.

The dark haired man speaks again. "Hey T-Dog, try to find a signal on your walkie-talkie. Can you contact the others?" He pulls out his walkie-talkie and holds it up to his face.

"Others? The refugee center?"

Oh Ricky, enough with the questions. . .

"Yeah, the refugee center," the woman repeats in a snappy tone. "They got biscuits in the oven waiting for us."

T-Dog exhales a heavy sigh. "Got no signal. Maybe the roof?"

I jump up when a gunshot sounds from up above. What perfect timing!

"Oh God, was that Dixon?" Never in my life have I heard the name 'Dixon' that Andrea just mentioned. Probably another survivor of their group, I suppose. Two more gunshots go off, and all of us run up the stairs to the roof. Once we get there, a man (either in his early or late forties) with short blond hair is shooting his rifle at the walkers on the street.

"Dixon are you crazy?" the black haired man yells. Still, I wish I knew his name.

A smirk spreads across Dixon's face. He turns around and walks over to us. "Hey! You ought t'be more polite to a man with a gun. I got some common sense."

"Man you're wastin' bullets we don't even got! There are already enough walkers to be taken care of!" T-Dog hollers at him.

"Hey, bad enough I got this taco bender up my ass all day and now I'm gonna take orders from you? I don't think so bro, that'll be the day. . ."

"That'll be the day?" T-Dog's voice starts to rise. "You got something you want to tell me?"

"T-Dog, it ain't worth it." I stare at the man. "Now Merle, just relax, okay? We got enough trouble." So his first name is Merle and his last name is Dixon. Got it.

"You wanna know the day?" I narrow my eyes at the way Merle is challenging T-Dog.

"Yeah."

"I'll tell you the day Mister Yo."

Several curse words are thrown at T-Dog by Merle. Next thing I know is that those two are fighting. Merle punches him in the face many times, then pushes him to the ground. Rick comes forward and tells Merle to stop. Instead he gets punched in the face too. A light bulb turns on in my head. I slip off my backpack and take out a can of tomato soup. I wasn't sure if I should do it or not, but now T-Dog has a gun pointed at his face by Merle Dixon.

I throw the can, and it hits Merle in the back of his head.

"Fuck, who the hell threw that?" He turns around. "So a little girl thinks she can take on a Dixon? What a-"

Before Merle could finish his sentence, an arm wraps around his throat. It was just Rick, who is simply 'protecting me.' Successfully he manages to handcuff Merle to a pipe. 'The glow' suddenly returns again.

"You okay, tough girl?"

Rick just called me tough girl. No one has ever called me "tough girl."

I just run over to Rick and pull him into a hug, the tears starting to flood in my eyes and pour out onto his clothing. He took the depression away, he took the weakness away, he put back all of my little strength.

"You're going to be okay, Jen," I hear him whisper in my ear. "You're going to be okay. . ."

I doubt it.

Doubt it like I have always had.

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><p><strong>Tough girl. Decided to have Jenina call Rick 'Ricky' since it's adorable. Is Jen one of those Mary Sue type characters? Don't want her to end up like that...<strong>

**Possible father/daughter relationship between the two of them? Tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4: Facing the Herd

**Thanks for the lovely reviews, it really boosts my confidence and makes me happy. :)**

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><p>Public toilets are part of my worst nightmares list. Didn't want to use the bathroom of the department store, but I had to go. While Rick and Andrea were having their discussion, I tiptoe to the bathroom. There was blood everywhere. On the floor, the walls, even in the sinks. A walker is feeding on a corpse ten feet away from me.<p>

I go over to the first stall. Like most bathrooms I've been to, this one reeks.

Not until I felt hands touch my hair.

My eyes widen when I see the tall walker before me. I turn around to run, only to slip and fall on the bloody floor. No weapons. I have nothing to fend for myself. Could've just brought a knife or a gun if I weren't careless enough. Maybe-

_Just do something already, you idiot!_

But the only thing I could do was cry out for Rick helplessly as the walker clawed at my ankles. Now it was biting down on my sneaker, blood dripping from its mouth. I came this far, all the way to Atlanta, just for this. To be like one of them.

Rick comes bursting in through the door. He fires his gun at the walker's head. I just lay there, curled up in the shape of a ball. The others must have heard the gunshot as well, because Andrea, Jacqui, T-Dog, Morales, and Glenn rush in.

"We heard a gunshot," Jacqui says. Her eyes widen at my figure. "What happened?"

Breathing heavily, I stand up on my two feet. "Just got attacked by a walker when I needed to use it," I say in between breaths. "That's all."

They just gave me looks. Looks that I couldn't understand.

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><p>I keep quiet to myself when we're back on the roof. The photograph of my friends Abby and Praneetha brushes against my light brown skin, memories of the pair flooding my mind. Memories that I wanted to go back to and relive again. Two people that are either dead or alive, friends that are precious to me.<p>

Is there a reason to cling onto them?

A tap on the shoulder arouses me from my thoughts. Looking up from the photo I see Andrea, who I really don't consider a bitch anymore.

"Hey Jenina." She sits adjacent from me. "You doing okay?"

My hands crumple the picture furiously. I give her a long glare, the pain without Abby and Praneetha stabbing severely at my heart like a knife. They gave me everything, and I would never return anything to them.

Andrea's gaze is still locked on me, I could just sense it somehow. The photo slips out of my fingers and onto her palm. If I had the choice to live or die, I would die.

Because nobody cares for me here.

I get up from my sitting position and stand next to Rick, who has a pair of binoculars to look out at the street. Andrea follows, takes her place in between Glenn and Jacqui.

"That construction site, those trucks." Rick points to the trucks below in a parking lot. "They always keep keys on hand." He hands the binoculars over to Morales.

"We'll never make it past those walkers."

"You got Jen and I out of that tank."

"Yeah, but they were feeding. They were distracted," Glenn interjects.

"We can distract them again, but I need to make sure if my baby girl is okay with it."

"Oh, so now you're callin' her baby girl?" Merle shifts uncomfortably with his handcuffed wrist still locked to the pipe. "She actually looks like one."

"There ain't no need to talk to her like that!" defends Rick. "Doesn't look like one either."

For the first time since this world has changed, I smile. It isn't a fake smile, but a real one, something that's very rare for anyone to see.

And Rick made me smile.

"They're drawn by sound, right?" he questions.

"Right," answers Glenn. "They hear sound, they come."

"What else?"

"Senses like a human. Hear you, see you, smell you, except that they eat you," Morales interprets.

"Hmm. . ." Rick walks around in a circle. He's thinking. Thinking on his plan, like any person would do. A couple of minutes pass, then the words spill out from Rick's mouth that show off his cleverness.

"I know what to do."

* * *

><p>The plan that Rick formed is very smart, but very disgusting. He is going to spread walker guts on himself and Glenn so they can get through the herd to the trucks. It's a risk worth taking, but at least it isn't that stupid. I even put on the rubber gloves and white lab coat as told. No reason to protest much since I'm a kid.<p>

Rick and Morales drag in a dead walker's body and set it on the floor. A mask is on Rick's face, ax in his left hand. He raises it over his head. I wait for the blood and guts to be exposed - only to see him drop the ax and rummage through the walker's pantaloons. There is only so much that can be carried in pockets. I don't question him as he does this. Besides, what can you even find in pockets that's useful?

What comes out of the pocket is a wallet. "Wayne Dunlap," he reads. "Georgia license. Born 1979." Rick hands Glenn the license. "He had twenty-eight dollars in his pocket when he died, and a picture of a pretty girl." He reads the little piece of paper.

_"With love,_

_From Rachel."_

Rick puts the wallet back in Wayne's pocket. "Used to be like us. Worrying about bills or the rent, the Super Bowl. If I ever find my family, I'm gonna tell them about Wayne."

So Rick has family. I've already lost everyone I cared about. The dark brown haired man takes the ax from the floor, raising it for the first chop. I stay close to Andrea, who is hugging me tightly.

"One more thing." I look over at Glenn. "He was an organ donor."

I tremble when Rick begins to chop up the dead Wayne. Entrails and blood spill out of him, the fetor odor of Wayne filling the air. Andrea pulls me away from the sticky pool of blood that is forming around him. I scrunch up my nose in disgust.

Rick discards the mask. He puts down the ax, eyes scanning us all. "Don't get any on your skin or in your eyes," he says as his hands reach for the guts. My gloved hands take hold of the guts that are very squishy. I smear them on the backside of Glenn's lab coat. The smell was definitely ten times worse than those public bathrooms.

"It stinks," I complain, grabbing another handful of entrails and walking over to Rick. He turns around, offering me to get the front side of his lab coat.

"Think about something else. Puppies and kittens."

"Yeah, dead puppies and kittens," T-Dog adds.

After smearing the guts on Rick and Glenn, I look up at Rick, who has his ax that was once on the floor. He only says those words, words that meant he cares for me just like my father had.

"No need to worry. I'll be back safe, baby girl."

While Rick and Glenn are out facing the herd, the rest of us are up on the roof again. If I were to speak up back there about joining them, I would've. Instead I don't talk because of my shyness. There is only so much a little girl like me can do in this world.

And being shy wasn't an option.

Being frightened isn't an option either.

I see that the clouds are a light gray above me; they are also bunched up together. Rain falls down on my head. I scan the street to see two figures running from the herd. Glenn and Rick.

They're still alive.

Alive because of Rick's idea to put walker's guts on themselves.

The two men clamber over the fence and remove their white lab coats. What's surprising is that some of the walkers can climb over the fence, but Rick fires his gun at them. I watch as they get into a truck, driving off out of the city. Wait, out of the city?

"They're leaving us. . ." says Andrea, consternation in her tone.

"Leavin'? That shitty Officer Friendly better unlock me!" complains Merle.

The walkie-talkie in T-Dog's hand comes to life, Glenn's voice on the other line. "There's a roller door at the front of the store facing the street. Meet us there and be ready."

Andrea takes me by the wrist and drags me down the stairs, the others following after us. Looking over my shoulder, I realize that T-Dog and Merle are still up on the roof. Merle, who is handcuffed to a pipe, needed the damn key. He needed the key to be a free man.

Oh well, he deserved to have a can thrown at his head.

We pass through the department store. At the corner of my eye there are the walkers that have already broken through the glass, ready for the next meal. Andrea, who doesn't have her hold on my wrist anymore, pounds at the roller door with her fists.

"Wait!" Everyone turns to me. "I can hear something."

It's the sound of a car alarm. As it fades away, there is knocking on the other side. With the help of Jacqui, Morales, Andrea, and T-Dog (who just came into the room) we open the roller door, seeing Rick with a truck. All of our bags are thrown inside the truck, us along with it. The herd of walkers just chase, chase after live humans like they do. Morales shuts the truck door, the groans of them no longer heard. I curl up in Andrea's arms, resting my head against her for comfort. Just like Rick, I experience a glow. Another glow that made me feel. . .

. . .happy.

As Rick is driving, Andrea asks a question that gets my attention.

"Where's Glenn?"

* * *

><p><strong>Our little horse is developing a motherdaughter relationship with Andrea. **

**Heh, little horse...**

**As for Rick, we'll be seeing more of my main man soon. Other characters will be appearing, so get ready for more interactions the next few chapters in. **

**~Dusty**


	5. Chapter 5: Motherly

**I hope you feel all the emotions in Jenina's head right now.**

**That's why I put it in first person.**

**And I love first person point of view. Also third person. Very, very much.**

* * *

><p>Rick explains to us that Glenn is in a red sports car, distracting the walkers. I hum a tune to myself so I don't worry about him. Everyone else though, they are probably worrying; I can tell by their expressions. As a child, that's what I don't do - worry.<p>

I wriggle out of Andrea's arms and lean my head against her shoulder. The bones in my body are aching. Maybe because I just ran from the horrors on the road and barely slept at all. Even the cans I would scavenge are not true meals at all. Meals like turkey on Thanksgiving with baked sweet potato pie. All of that was before.

No one can go back to before.

"You seem quiet." Andrea blinks her green eyes at me. "Not much of a talker, are you?"

"Nope. Not a chatterbox at all," I say in a low tone of voice.

"At least tell me where you came from."

I swallow the lump gathered in my throat. "Macon. Just Macon. . ."

* * *

><p>The ride out of Atlanta has its bumpiness. Pretty much I just sit there like a tamed dog, waiting until we get to this safe haven. That's what Morales describes it as. A safe haven, which I doubt has a pair of innocent twelve-year-girls named Abby and Praneetha. If I were smart enough to go after them, I would have. I ball my hands into fists - all of the anger and pain wouldn't go away. It should, I know it should. . .<p>

Until a loud car alarm interrupts those negative thoughts. I can hear shouts of joy none other than by Glenn, whose red sports car is driving ahead of the truck when I look out through the front window.

"Looks like someone's having a good day," says Morales.

Finally we reach the camp, which is in the beautiful part of Atlanta. Rick puts the truck in park, sharing a look with me as everyone climbs out. I get that nice, glowing feeling again.

A feeling that my father and I never had.

I sit in the passenger's seat next to him, keeping our gazes locked on one another. Rick tips my fedora up with a finger, the _I want you to listen to me_ look on his face.

"Listen to me closely, Jen. We don't know these people. We don't know if they're gonna harm us, so I want you to stay by my side. Got it?"

"Got it."

Rick and I exit the truck, his grip firmly tight when he squeezes the small hand inside of his. I keep close to him as we reveal ourselves to the unknown. There are people staring at us, mostly Rick. His eyes find a pair among the rest - a woman and a boy, who I assume is about my age.

"Dad!" the boy yells, and that's when I understand. This is Rick's family, the ones he cares for most. He is speed walking over to his son and wife now, our hands drifting apart. They bury him in warmth combined with elation, feelings that I doubt I'll experience with anyone now that the world has ended. Quickly I wipe away the tears from my face, putting on a fake smile so no one notices anything. But that smile fades away when Andrea looks at me. She is hugging a woman in her arms. Blonde hair with blue eyes - her sister, I suppose.

Family is something I don't have.

Rick has that - family.

He doesn't need his "tough girl" to be there for him.

* * *

><p>When it's nighttime, everyone else is huddled around a campfire while I stay in seclusion at the quarry. I shiver from the cold; I sort of expected that to come, since we're in back country and all. The people up there don't notice me though. That's what I regard them as - the people. I may know their names, but they are just people.<p>

People like Shane, the leader of the group. Others like Lori, Rick's wife, and their son, Carl. Then there is Dale who serves as a "moral compass" (an adviser since he's the elder). Carol, a woman who is shy just like I am, with her daughter Sophia and husband Ed. Andrea's younger sibling Amy, who she introduced me to, still felt like a stranger.

I'm a stranger to them like they are strangers to me.

"You don't have to be by yourself all the time, you know."

Andrea. It's just Andrea.

"Is everything alright?" She squats down in front of me so we're at eye level. There it is - that Andrea wants to know what you're thinking about look. I meet those penetrating green eyes once again. "Do we need to have a little chat?" Andrea says this in a calm manner of tone.

"He neglected me back there and went for his family instead. I used to be Rick's tough girl. What am I of his significance?"

"Rick saw you as something different when you threw that can at Merle."

Different. It is a word that is used in many terms. I think about the way she said it, how "different" I am in Rick's eyes. Sure, I like being called tough girl, but I'm not tough like he says. I am a sensitive girl, not _tough._

"I'm not different. He probably just saw me as another troublemaker."

Andrea reaches into her back pants pocket and pulls out the picture of Abby and Praneetha that I crumpled earlier. My best friends who I may never see again. I miss their artwork, the jokes we made together. I miss writing stories for them. Those past memories are locked somewhere in a safe where they can't be opened.

Because opening them will crack my heart into pieces.

She puts the photograph in my palm. I hug her, Andrea welcoming me into her motherly arms. That's what this woman means to me. A mother.

_Mother . . ._

Yeah, I know who to talk with now.

* * *

><p><strong>Creativity is something that I would like to explore in this <strong>**fan fiction. I shall let my imagination flow with each chapter, even though I am following the television series. Besides, it would be a little bit boring if I just added Jenina in every scene and give her a few lines. So I hope you like the whole "Ricky leaving Jen" and the "mother/daughter relationship moment with Andrea." **

**~Dusty**


	6. Chapter 6: Children

**As a writer, I took my time on this chapter and tried to use my classic writing style, so please forgive me if I made any mistakes. A bad beginning, but it will get better.**

**Starting off fresh like a ****freshener. **

* * *

><p>Talking. People with good conversational skills take it easy like it's no problem to them at all. But me? Most kids ignored my presence unless I've done something amazing, which I haven't.<p>

I had to deal with being a loner.

Being a child is hard enough.

One memory that I remember in the old world was during primary school at age ten. Kids were running across the rocky playground, playing, laughing - _enjoyment. _I was at the swings by myself, kicking at the rocks. Sure, I had friends, but they were casual friends. My brother had casual friends; he was just fine. Abby and Praneetha were good friends, but they couldn't pay attention to me twenty-four hours a day.

Now I stand here in the Atlanta camp, looking out over the forest. Mom used to take me on leisurely strolls in forests whenever we came across one. Her favorite season was autumn, and she wanted to name me that for a couple of reasons.

_You would blend in perfectly with the colors of orange and yellow, you know that?_

No.

_Seems to me nature is your best friend._

She was right.

If only Mom weren't dead.

Maybe I just need to hang onto hope like she said.

_There is still faith, even in broken worlds._

I go to a log and sit down at it. The morning sunshine is beaming right at my face, but I ignore it. On most days I'm happy, but the feeling of loneliness burns in a place unexpectedly inside of me. It's like having a knife slashed across your face. The wound of getting cut in such a way - hurts. All I feel is pain, pain of losing-

"Hi!"

Turning my head around, the painful thoughts were suddenly erased when I stare at the person beside me. _Carl Grimes. _We only stare, my maple brown eyes locked on his sky blue orbs. I want to reply, I really want to, but I can't. _I just can't._

_"_Hey!" Carl's voice brings me back to reality. "You're the girl who arrived here not long ago, right?" he inquires.

"Right . . ." The words slip out easily.

"What's your name?"

He's asking for your name. How embarrassing this must be. "Jenina," I say expressionless. "Jenina Mares."

Carl tilts his head to the side. "Like the horses?"

I nod in response. He snickers. A smile forms on my face and it feels nice for once. "Anyways, I wanted to ask if you want to play tag with us."

"Us?"

He points at three kids huddled in a circle. "Sophia, Louis, and Eliza. You looked kind of sad, so I decided to come over here and ask if you wanted to play."

_If you don't grow up, you die._

I know that, Dad.

It's just having a little bit of fun, so what's bad about it?

Letting out a small "okay" Carl leads me over to the other children. He introduces me to them and they only say "hi" but I'm too shy to talk. I give a close look at the doll in Eliza's hands. Dolls were a treasure to me before in primary school. Most of them were horses, and I would bring one to school every day. Mom gave me those dolls ever since I started kindergarten. Now she's gone, dolls left as a bittersweet memory.

"I call being it!" exclaims Carl.

Maybe I will enjoy this game of tag.

_Maybe._

* * *

><p>Bushes. I crawl under one, keeping my eyes on Carl as he chases Sophia around camp. Hiding and being sneaky is a skill I have learned to master both old and new world. In the old world, I would sneak up on people and surprise them. In the new world, hiding from walkers wasn't easy, but I managed.<p>

Manage like I always do.

Crawling out from under the bush, I look around. Carl is still here somewhere, I know-

"You're it." This is Carl, a smile streaked across his face. Just when I'm about to run, I hear a scream.

A scream I recognize of Sophia.

We run in her direction, followed closely by Eliza and Louis. When we arrive, I see Sophia trembling in Carol's arms as she stares horrified at the scene of a walker eating a dead deer. Lori is here too, asking Carl if he's okay. Once I spot Andrea though, she rushes over to me and asks if I'm alright.

I just whisper "Yes."

That is when an arrow flies through the walker's skull.

* * *

><p>Rick and Shane soon appear with their weapons. Don't know what took them so long to get here, but I don't care. Branches begin to snap as a man emerges from the undergrowth with his crossbow, squirrels dangling on a rope from his shoulder.<p>

"Shit," Amy curses under her breath. "Daryl's back."

I watch as the man named Daryl pulls out the remaining arrows of the deer I had not noticed earlier, including the walker. "Merle!" the redneck shouts as he enters camp, the rest of us following. "Merle! Brother, get your ass out here!"

Yep, they are definitely brothers.

Andrea is stroking my hair. I look up at her. "It would be better if you go inside the RV, okay?"

"But Andrea-"

"Please." Her volume is soft, quite similar to Mom's. "It's grown-up stuff."

I can handle grown-up stuff.

_Lie._

But I don't complain, no, because I'm already walking toward the RV, muttering words that no adult wants to hear.

_Ever._

* * *

><p>There is too much chaos outside. Even if Carl, Sophia, Louis, and Eliza are observing the fight, I don't bother to watch. Fighting is something I despise seeing, whether it's with scornful words or any pain concerning the human body. But curiosity is a characteristic I can't control of myself, so I squeeze in between Carl and Sophia.<p>

"He could've harmed somebody back there if I didn't handcuff him to a pipe," Rick says to Daryl.

Everyone goes silent.

I hate it when people go silent.

And then chaos erupts again once more. Now Shane has Daryl in a headlock; Rick is telling him where Merle is so they can get him back. On that roof, probably still there. Could be somewhere else, who knows?

No one knows.

"I'm going back."

_Rick._

He's going back for Merle.

I can't blame Rick. He's too nice of a person to do this.

_You would've done the same thing, too._

Thanks for haunting me, Mom.

I'm too good to be here at all.

But I remind myself to survive as long as I can for Mom.

Because Mom would care that I'm alive right now.

* * *

><p><strong>Eh, I hope this chapter wasn't too bad unlike the rest I wrote, but again, forgive me.<strong>

**Hopefully I will keep up with Jenina's in-depth thoughts. **


	7. Chapter 7: Compassionate

**I have to admit, I am not the best writer out there, but let's hope this chapter is worth it. **

**Disclaimer: The Walking Dead belongs to its rightful owner and not me. If I owned it, what chaos would I cause. **

* * *

><p><em>"A kind and compassionate act is often its own reward."<em>

**-William Bennett**

* * *

><p>Dad was the complete opposite of Mom. He would shout at her a lot for little things, like not getting the bills done. Dad only shouted at Mom, not me, not even my brother, just <em>Mom. <em>That was four years ago, but I had suspicions it went on for longer. His complaining and disagreeing is what threw me off though. That's exactly what Shane is doing - complaining and disagreeing outside as if he were a little kid desperate for candy.

And I hate it.

Must explain why I'm hiding under blankets in the RV like a fool.

"Jen?"

Peeking out from the covers, Andrea greets me with a smile.

A smile that reminds me too much of Mom.

She closes the door behind her. I want words to come out of my mouth already, but they won't.

_They are just words you idiotic horse._

_"_Hey sweet cakes." Andrea settles herself in a chair beside mine. I remove the blankets and toss them onto the floor. "Thought I might check up on you."

_Sweet cakes. Check up on you. _I can imagine Mom saying that just like Andrea did. A negative feeling is here, right _here, _drowning myself in water when everyone else is breathing fine. Rick and Andrea and Glenn - they aren't drowning like I am.

"There's no need to check up on your sweet cakes," I murmur. "I'm fine Andrea. I'm fine. I just want to be alone right now."

"You don't seem like it to me."

Our eyes bore into each other. Soft maple brown on bright grassy green. How these pair of hues can detach so easily - Andrea and I never will. But I'm still keeping those personal feelings to myself, the thoughtful look in Andrea's green irises deepening to an extent when I see Mom. Andrea nicknamed me sweet cakes. Mom called me sweetheart.

_Hey sweet cakes._

_Hey sweetheart._

Andrea can still die at any time though.

She can still die just like Mom.

* * *

><p>They left in the truck to get Merle. Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and T-Dog - names I can pick from memory - are probably in the city right now. I don't mind Rick leaving, since the negative feeling of drowning has gone away. The love of nature replaces it with singing birds as they fly across a light blue sky to somewhere. I'm not real sure where somewhere is, but I'll find it.<p>

From the large rock I'm sitting on I hear splashing. Carl is trying to catch frogs in a net with Shane in the water. The boy laughs, which is something I barely do. Our game of tag is ridden of and there's no need to question it. Only for a while I miss having joy, but I shake that feeling away.

Commotion. I hear it.

Commotions are a bad thing.

I storm over to Ed who is yelling at Andrea's face. My gut tells me not to speak because I can't do anything about the situation, but I do.

"Ever thought of giving your opposite gender some respect?" I snap, immediately grabbing Ed's attention. That's when I spot the bruises - bruises that Ed gave, sick bastard - all over her arms. The fire blazes in my gut more and it's painful. I may not know Carol but she doesn't deserve this. Any of this. "You give her," I point at Carol, _"bruises._ It's not right! And being mean to others isn't gonna get you _nowhere._" He is about to say something but I cut him off. "You know that, I know that, _all of us_ know that."

He scrunches up his eyebrows. Water stings at my eyes when Ed's smoky breath hits me in the nostrils. "An orphan doesn't know anything and that's you. So why not run along, go play with those slimy lil' brats?" Ed takes Carol by the arm roughly. "C'mon, let's go!"

Pushing past Amy and Jacqui I smack his hand away. Andrea joins the scene and yanks me back, hoping I will stop, but I squirm out of her grasp and get in between Carol and Ed. Her face is full of fear, the slightest hint of a tear appearing.

The fire is still inside of my gut.

But it goes out when a severe punch strikes me in the jaw. At first I collide into a rock, but then I feel wetness. Water. It's the quarry water . . .

My clothes are all soggy now, and I can't even find my fedora.

I'm drowning.

I'm drowning in this world of negativity as usual.

* * *

><p>Blood. The crimson liquid bubbles up in my mouth as arms carry me to RV. I can hear Andrea above all the other voices - reassuring people that I'll be fine, not bothering to answer any minor questions. Everything hurts. Limbs and all, but mostly my face. There is blood - blood on my face, and I see it drip down onto the ground. My vision is getting even more blurry, and the world around me fades away as I think about Carol and the bruises Ed left on her arms.<p>

An innocent person like Carol shouldn't be all torn up in such a way.

And I'm glad she's not in the state I'm in right now.

I'm glad it's not anybody.

* * *

><p>My eye.<p>

My eye, it's all swollen and red and beaten up as I stare blankly into the mirror of the RV bathroom. Picking up the wet cloth next to the sink, I flinch when I press the cloth against it, a blood stain appearing. The fire blazing inside my gut earlier just became extinguished; now the negative feeling of drowning is here again.

A black eye. I have a _fucking_ black eye.

Thanks a lot Ed.

Exiting the bathroom with towel in hand, Andrea is the first person I see on the couch. That strong, negative feeling invades a place I never expected it to, and it's like the fire. But this time I'm drowning in water. She's staring at the horror right on my _face. _

Please stop looking at me.

Please . . .

But I don't talk to her.

And I don't dare twist my head around to see Andrea's expression when I leave her in the RV alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Thought it would make sense if I gave Jenina a black eye, since she got punched in the face by that bastard Ed Peletier. Mhmm, she's gonna become stricken with negative thoughts.<strong>

**I like getting into her head. **


	8. Chapter 8: Andrea

**Sorry for not updating for so long! Writer's block and homework got in the way. Chapter nine is going to be a lot longer. I think.**

**It is possible Andrea can become her comic series counterpart. And I said possible, but I'm unsure whether to do this or not. We'll have to see where this fanfic goes first.**

**Yes, I used an Abraham Lincoln quote. My favorite president. XD**

* * *

><p>"Whatever you are, be a good one."<p>

**-Abraham Lincoln**

* * *

><p>"Is your eye okay?"<p>

Carl examines my black eye curiously, a hint of fear showing beneath his blue irises. It looks like a mix of fear and worry, or it could be one or the other - I don't know. Andrea offered some to clean it up earlier but I refused. Now my eye is all hideous and damaged. If I took those bandages . . . Damn it.

"Are you up in space?" Carl asks again, who's still on the log we're sitting on. He should be talking to Sophia or someone else. Not me. I want him to go away, I really do, but being unkind to Carl isn't right. It just _feels_ that way for some reason.

"You there? I'm still-"

"I know, Carl. I know."

When Carl gazes at his sneakers, I suddenly feel bad for how cold the saying came out than I intended them to. _Bitter. Crushed. _I'm becoming more bitter, and I'm being crushed slowly because of the bitterness. Bitter, my brand new attitude. That's how I acted toward Carl. Bitter.

Don't be bitter, don't become cold . . .

Andrea and Amy walk in carrying buckets of fish. For once I actually smile at the thought of eating something real. It's actual food; it won't make my stomach upset. Good. Fish is way better than those expired cans I ate on the road. I threw up on the car I was sheltering in. I was so hungry that I didn't even read the label-

_Oh Jenina. You're in a different world now. Labels don't matter._

_You don't matter._

Orphans are useless. I have a black eye for fuck's sake. Couldn't even punch Ed since he is an adult and I am a kid who wails - still wails _inside - _for her mother.

Mom understood me.

Mom packed my lunch for school.

Mom said I'm her little fighter.

Mom bought horse dolls because of my surname.

Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom.

I shut everyone out, even Andrea, my maternal figure, who is talking with Amy and Dale about the fish. I don't bother with chats though. None of this involves me.

How do these emotions, happiness and misery, transit so quickly?

Because you yearn for Mom.

I will always yearn for Mom.

* * *

><p>Grassy fields are beautiful. The sun is setting and the rest of the group that didn't go to the city are with me. I don't mind them much, but I would enjoy myself a little bit more if Jim weren't digging large holes in the middle of the field. It's ruining the scenery, scenery that is apart from a cruel world filled with walkers. We all approach him; he resumes digging as if we were never here.<p>

"Hey Jim?" Shane advances toward Jim, keeping calm. "Why don't you hold up, alright?"

There is no response from him. Shane wrinkles his eyebrows. "Just give us a second here. Please?"

Jim sighs and stops digging, shovel gripped tightly in his hands. He's been at the holes for some time; I can tell by the beads of sweat on his face. "What do you want?" he snarls, teeth bared like a dog.

"I'm just a little concerned man, that's all."

"Dale says you've been out here for hours," Morales comments.

"So?" The roughness is clear in his volume of voice.

"So why are you digging? You headin' to China, Jim?" Shane's being humorous, but no one laughs. I frown when Jim starts digging again, dirt set into a mountain pile.

Dale protests that Jim is hurting himself by working out in this one hundred degree heat. I can sense it, sense anger radiating between Jim and Shane. And I don't like it. Lori adds that he's scaring the children. I'm not scared of him, and I went through worse.

I never had a nice life, anyways.

Shane continues, "We think you need a break, get yourself in the shade. Maybe some food and a little water, or I can help you out." Impatiently he taps a foot. "Jim. Jim?'

"Or what? You're gonna beat my face like Ed Peletier?"

I swear to God bitterness welled inside me then. It burns in the most sensitive of places where the emotion slowly wells. My right eye, my black eye, is _twitching._ Twitching because of the bitterness. Twitching because I'm drowning in this state.

The lightbulb has gone out.

"You weren't there." I can hear her. Amy. "Ed was out of control. He was _hurting _his wife, Jenina-"

"Why would I want to deal with a little girl who has a black eye?"

Those scornful words sets everyone into silence. But those - those _words . . . _I grind my teeth together when I glare at Jim, who gives a blank stare. No emotion. _Nothing. _The rest of the group though, they're sympathetic. No reason to be.

Sympathy for me, I hate it.

It burns.

It's drowning me.

I can feel it, hot tears of shame and sorrowfulness streak down my cheeks.

Now I regret being here.

The pain hurts so much that I just run off to the RV, voices calling my name.

* * *

><p>Inside the RV I'm under the blankets. Again. Only that Andrea is next to me, sitting in the same spot as last time. It has probably been at least ten minutes and neither of us hasn't spoken yet. I feel comfortable with that - Andrea not forcing anything out of me. I'm horrible at talking to people, especially during my elementary school years. But this is <em>Andrea.<em> We apprehend each other quite well in body language and facial expression. She remains quiet though like I do.

She remains quiet because there is nothing to say after my breakdown.

Andrea pats her fingers on the seat. "I was gettin' worried about you back there. It's unlike you to run off like that."

"So you're saying I'm sensitive?"

The slightest tinge of red flushes Andrea's pale complexion. "N-no! I expected you-"

"Yeah. I understand. You want me to be a tougher kid." I can see the color vanish from Andrea's cheeks. "Does the blank eye really point everything out? Hmm?"

"Sweet cakes," she begins, "it doesn't. What Jim said back there, he only got displeased. You get it, right?" I nod. "Good. Don't let anybody break you. You're _good._ I know how it feels, being good in this world. It changes you. But . . . just remind yourself that you _are_ a good person. Can't let go of an important quality."

Good.

Do the good ones survive?

Nope.

What about me?

. . .

Unknown.

"It's just . . . I don't think I'm _good._ Well, I think I am, but I'm not. People can only control their inner demons for so long . . . How am I going to do that? Control myself? It's _there, _Andrea. The inner demons. You see the demons on my face. But what about listening? Who _do_ I listen to, good or bad?"

Her arms are secure as she pulls me closer into a hug. Not really a hugger much, but I accept her. "I can't make any decisions for you. Sometimes it's worth deciding yourself."

Deciding yourself. The words repeat in my head like a record player. Decisions are left up to the adults, not kids. Not orphans. Orphans are pressured on and hated. They fight for their lives because nobody else can. They stand up and get beaten down again. They don't have families. They crawl and crawl and have no one to fight for.

Whether I'm dead or alive, I will keep on fighting. I will stay good, even if it is impossible in the zombie apocalypse.


End file.
